


Perfectly Irregular

by aliviachan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Getting Together, M/M, Omega Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:39:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14606358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliviachan/pseuds/aliviachan
Summary: Stiles experiences "irregular heats" - instead of the regular, week-long heats, omegas are supposed to have, Stiles, is one of the unlucky omegas to experience irregular heats. They are unpredictable. They can last for one day or ten. They can hit a couple of weeks unexpectedly after the last or not happen at all for like six months. It makes it hard to schedule time off school or work etc. because he never knows when it will hit. He has learned to roll with it but meets Derek and gets into awkward scenarios.





	Perfectly Irregular

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AwaitTheMorrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwaitTheMorrow/gifts).



> I wasn't sure if you wanted a steamy scene, so I didn't write one. I hope you still like it ♥╣[-_-]╠♥

Stiles wants to fall into the empty abyss that is his social life and just die. He hasn’t been outside in what feels like weeks, and if it was up to him, this stupid article that Finstock has him writing wouldn’t even see the light of day. Stiles has been at it for what seems like hours. From the moment he sat at his desk, Finstock was on his ass about finishing his environmental article. Stiles already spent weeks working on it, but what can he say? It’s fucking hard to write about something as dull as photosynthesis and tree beds. Hell, Stiles isn’t even an environmentalist writer! He writes about hard hitting and shocking events for pete’s sake! Not about what vegetable vegans can find at their local farmers market. Despite his complaints, his boss refused to see the light of Stiles’ words and pushed the deadline even sooner just to be a jerk. 

 

He’s halfway through his third paragraph about the beauty of what mother nature has provided for the trees when his phone vibrates. Fumbling the device out his pocket, he stares down at the text from Scott.

 

**Scotty Boy** : We should hang out tonight. Kira found a new club and wants everyone to hang

 

**Me** : Rain check????

 

Letting out a pathetic sounding sigh, Stiles lazily spins in his rolling chair, givinghis brain and fingers a well-deserved break. Lolling his head to the side and stealing a glance at his clock Stiles sighs again, but this time contently. In five minutes it’ll be an hour until two hours before he can finally go home, however, even then he’s going to have to stay up and finish his work before he ends up murdering Finstock. 

 

Which means, sadly, he can’t get drunk with his friends tonight.

 

If he wasn’t so exhausted, he might even cry about it later.

 

“If Finstock catches you like that he’s going to kill you.” His desk neighbor, Amberlee, says with a commiserating smile lingering on her face. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t die. Who would entertain me when you’re gone?”

 

“Haha,” he says twirling to look at the girl.

 

Ever since he started at New York City Post, the bright-eyed blonde has been one of the best of friends he’s made in the city. Sure, she’s more of a ‘work friend,’ but a friend nonetheless. Pulling his chair back to his desk, Stiles rolls his neck out for a few seconds and glowers at his laptop, as if was the root of his problems. If he knew he’d be this bored he’d have taken his break later rather than sooner.

 

For a few seconds, he lets his arms dangle helplessly at his sides as he thinks about what to write next. From behind him, Amberlee fills their corner of silence with comforting small talk about her girlfriend, their plans for vacation, and the new german shepherd they adopted. Stiles’ attention is split between listening to her and writing a few more paragraphs — _and deleting a lot of half-assed sentences_ — making it hard for him to focus on what she is saying.

 

Finally, the clock reads 7:30 and Stiles throws his hands in the air in silent prayer. He gathers his stuff in a flurry of motions while wishing Amberlee a good night. Finstock shouts his name, but Stiles doesn't stop his mad rush out of the building.

 

It takes him approximately 20 minutes to get to his loft, which is decent considering his job is in the center of Los Angeles’ heavy traffic. Locking his door, Stiles sighs as he sets his bag on the couch and peels off his jacket. Heading to the kitchen, he stretches his arms above his head as he thinks of ordering takeout again. He’s mid pour of orange juice when his phone vibrates. Looking at who it’s from, Stiles unlocks the screen and quickly replies back to Scott.

 

**Scotty Boy** : You sure? She also said they are serving free pizza because of opening night 

 

**Me** : ( °٢° )…dude…what time?

 

« « « » » » 

 

As it turns out,Stiles is a sucker for free food. The stuff just tastes better when you’re not the one paying for it. So if Stiles may or may not have had six slices and two rounds of shots in his short time since arriving at the club, no one can judge him. 

 

“I think you better slow down Stilinski. We wouldn’t want another Vegas incident,” Lydia says with so much disappointed amusement as she sips her cocktail. “I’m not bailing your ass out again.”

 

Stiles sniffs proudly as he squints his eyes at her, “It’s not my fault the officer couldn’t take a joke.”

 

Lydia purses her lips judgingly for a few odd seconds before taking Stiles’ drink away from him. He whines in protest but ends up going along with it as the strawberry blonde drags him to the dance floor. The music is too loud, and the floor is crowded. Stiles has half the nerve to ditch the dancing and go back to sitting, but stays nonetheless as one of his favorite songs plays through the speakers. Lydia dances with him for a few songs before she’s leaning backward into some dude’s arms.

 

Sighing, Stiles starts to exit the floor but halts when warm sweaty hands slide around his hips. Turning his head slightly over his shoulder, Stiles catches a glimpse of dark stubble and biceps. Deciding not to move, Stiles lets out a pleased hum as the guy moves them to the tempo of the music. Letting his head lull backward, Stiles closes his eyes as he softly hums along to the chorus of the Hayley Kiyoko song.

 

At this point, Stiles was thoroughly feeling himself, so you could only imagine his dismay when h had begun to feel _it_.

 

His eyes shot open as the room seemed to need to burn him alive. Squirming in the dude’s hold, Stiles pulled the too hot hands off of his waist as he staggered away from his current partner. Hoping that the stranger wouldn’t be a dick about his sudden departure, he turned to face the mystery man. As the rest of his senses finally caught up to speed with the presence of the other man Stiles insides nearly convulsed at the scent of the alpha.

 

Yeah, he needed to get home.

 

“Hey,” he said drawing out the word as an awkward flush bloomed on his cheeks. “So funny story. My body sometimes hates me because of unknown reasons. It’s probably because I can sometimes be an ass, but that’s beside the point.” He waved his hands in front of him as if he were erasing his previous statement. The motion seemed to stir the air around them because through his slowly clouding visions he caught the guy’s nostrils flaring.

 

Deciding to ignore the small reaction Stiles continued, “the point is that I’m probably going into heat, and though this was fun, I don’t want to have sex right now. Which is another weird thing right? I mean usually, omegas need sex constantly during their heats. However, since I’m my own breed of fucked, and this is my seventh heat this month, It differs for me, and— oh my God why am I telling you all of this?!”

 

While he babbled, the guy seemed to have gathered himself enough to realize the situation they were in. It took a few seconds, but Stiles also noticed the way the guy’s eyes seemed to be glancing around and glaring at the people staring at them. The feeling of self-consciousness and slight insecurity washed over Stiles in tsunami-sized waves as he stepped away from the alpha.

 

“Look, I’m just going to go,” Stiles breathed out. His exhaustion from earlier seeming to come back to him. “I can find my friends and have one of them to-” Looking down at his phone he almost broke into tears when he saw that all of his friends had messaged him their goodnights. It was the curse of having nearly all of your friends dating one another.

 

“Are you okay?” The voice was raspy and maybe hinted at signs of sounding uncomfortable.

 

Jumping slightly, Stiles looked wide-eyed towards the guy, forgetting that he was even there. He opened his mouth to question why he would ask such a thing, but startled with a squeak as his breathing prevented him from speaking. Feeling his chest constricting Stiles’ vision completely blurred as he hectically hyperventilated. As he’s mid-panic, he could feel hands on his lower back and arm as someone guided him out of the crowded club.

 

The fresh air felt good against his burning skin as he fell against the wall. He doesn’t hear anything, but his attention is brought back to the alpha as the stranger attempted to help him through breathing exercises. After probably an hour of forced breathing and strangled hiccups, Stiles felt his vision come back to him as the attack subsided.

 

“Sorry,” he breathed with a tired frown, as he absentmindedly fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “You didn’t need to see that.”

 

“You don’t need to apologize,” the guy reassured. His smile gentle and his body language was hesitant as if he’s scared he’d offend Stiles if he got too close. “I should have backed off when I first noticed something happening.”

 

Shocked, Stiles' eyes shot up to see the rest of the guy’s face. The dim lighting of the club hadn’t done the man justice as Stiles properly took in his appearance. No one feature made the alpha handsome, though his multicolored-green eyes came close. He had that kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. The guy was also maybe an inch or two taller than him, but nothing that dramatic.

 

Stiles stood mortified, frozen to the spot.

 

He felt traumatized. He couldn't believe it had happened, and in front of such an attractive—probably sweet hearted guy. He'd never live this down as long as he lived. People would be reminding him of this as he ate his mush in the nursing home. There was nothing for it; he'd have to leave town, cast off his identity and start off somewhere new. He was done for.

 

“Uhm…okay? Thank you?” Stiles managed to choke out. His body still felt like it was boiling in a pit of hot lava.

 

“Do you…do you want a ride?” The guy asked shyly. “My sister had came with me, but I saw her go home with some redhead a few minutes before we stepped outside-”

 

“Uhm..”

 

“-and, it was shitty of me, but I read your texts while you were freaking out, and it looks like you’re stranded, so…” 

 

“I was just—”

 

“You don’t have to—”

 

“Yes please.”

 

This seemed to have caught the guy off guard as he stared at Stiles wide-eyed. His face went throng an array of emotions before the gentle almost there smile returned to his face. He didn’t say much after that. All that happened next was Stiles messaging each of his friends that he was getting a ride from some guy and snapping a quick picture of the license plate before the guy could see him.

 

Stiles might be an omega in heat, but he wasn’t stupid. Or, at least at this moment he wasn’t. 

 

 

« « « » » »

 

Stiles hadn’t remembered a lot from the night at the club, but he did remember careful hands guiding him to the elevator when his stomach decided to cramp up. He also recalled crying when he leaked all over the guy's seat, and in response, the guy apologized to him for not having a towel, which only made Stiles cry even harder. Because who the hell could be so kind?!

 

He also remembered the guy’s shocked eyes once he realized the location Stiles had given him. Stiles himself found it strange that after the guy—who’s name is Derek—dropped him off at his apartment door, and he headed down the hall and to the elevators and up a level.

 

Stiles was too tired to call him out on it, so he had let it go in favor of eating a whole pint of brownie explosion ice cream and falling asleep.

 

« « « » » »

 

The next time they bump into each other was almost a months later, and Stiles was hyped on Red Bull, and maybe a bit sleep deprived. After that night, Stiles had assumed that Derek lived in the same building as him but was too chicken-shit to do anything about it. So, when he shouted for someone to hold the elevator for him, he didn’t expect to barrel into the small box to meet none other than Mr. Mcdreamy-multicolored-green eyes. They stare at one another for a solid thirty seconds before Stiles pressed his floor number and scrambled his way into the corner a few feet away from Derek.

 

White knuckling his messenger bag, Stiles felt a deep blush take over his face as Derek’s scent overwhelmed his senses. Warm and dominate with hints of earthiness, alongside a tinge of lavender and cleaning supply. Stiles felt his knees go weak.

 

Looking at Derek through the side of his eye, Stiles bit his lip as he saw Derek clenching his fists and blushing. The tips of his ears were probably as red as a fire hydrant as he seemingly tried not to breathe through his nose. The alpha wordlessly glanced everywhere but Stiles, as he tried to regain his composure.

 

Confused, Stiles idly wondered what could be keeping Derek so on edge. Opening his mouth to voice his concern, he froze as a broken whimper slipped from his lips instead. His eyes flew open as a hand reached up to clamp over his mouth. Tentatively shifting from foot to fit her grimaced at the sticky feeling between his thighs.

 

Well shit.

 

Derek looked at him then with full lust filled eyes and a glazed over expression. It was maddening, and if it weren’t for the door opening to his floor, Stiles was sure he’d be in a very compromising position. Stammering out a quick apology Stiles tripped his way out of the elevator and down the hallway. In front of his door stood Scott with a box of binders that he promised to bring over.

 

Scoffing, Scoot took in his friend's frazzled appearance before sighing, “Well I guess I should just drop these off then?”

 

“Sorry,” he grumbles absentmindedly as he fumbled with his keys. “I just want to shower before something decides to destroy the last bit of sanity that I have left from thinking of—” 

 

Scott goes stiff as amazement colored his face, “Derek.”

 

Stiles startled at his words, turning to him, entirely wrecked. “Derek?! Wha–why would I be thinking of Derek?! What are you talking about? Who even is Derek?”

 

“What?”

 

“What?” Stiles repeats.

 

Scott gave Stiles a look, eyebrows rising slightly. “Derek Hale esteemed artists and probably the hottest person of our fucking generation...don’t tell my Kira I said that.” He whispers the last part but doesn’t take his eyes away from the closing elevator doors.

 

Stiles’ thoughts feel like a ball of tangled yarn as he finally opened his door. Taking the box from Scott, he thanked him hurriedly before closing the door in his face. 

 

« « « » » »

 

Stiles felt like death. He hadn’t slept in about a week, which happened to be the same amount of time that he hadn’t seen Derek. Stiles wasn’t sure if the two facts were correlated to one another, but at this point, he’s pretty sure all it meant was he’s screwed. He’s currently lounging in his living room with Hulu playing in the background. Not really paying attention to the episode of Brooklyn 99, Stiles stared at his ceiling with a bag of ice on his stomach. He had tried to be productive today, but with his chemical makeup being at war with one another, he thought it best just to relax.

 

Stiles was slowly falling asleep when a sharp knocking came from his door.

 

Rolling onto his side, Stiles stared at the door in hopes that whoever it was would go away. When a series of knocking filled his ears once again, he groaned as he rolled from his state of almost comfort. The bag of ice had fallen to the ground with a wet clattering sound that kind of caused his headache from earlier to reappear. Dragging his feet to the door, he turned the lock and pulled the door open with a weak wince as the hot air from the hallway rushed inside. Blinking blearily, Stiles squinted beyond the person before finally locking eyes with Derek.

 

“Are…are you in heat again?” Derek asked a bit perplexed.

 

Stiles blanched at the question. Taking a second to think it over, he let out a soft huff, “no…not yet at least. It’s like the calm before the storm.” Noticing the three large bags in Derek’s arms, Stiles raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

 

Instead of answering like a reasonable person, Derek thrust the bags his way with a deep blush on his cheeks. Snorting amused, Stiles tentatively opened the first bag and smiled sleepily at its contents: strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, chocolates, and a bag of uncooked beans.

 

An amused laugh burst from his chest which startled both of them. Stiles had to admit, Derek did put a lot of research into his little cafe package. “You…you didn’t have to.”

 

“I know,” Derek rushed out. “I just thought that you could need something to help with the stress, cramps, and flow. My sister is a doctor, and she nearly had a heart attack when I told her about how irregular you were. She helped me get this whole thing set up and just—” Derek looked pained. “I just thought you would like it?”

 

“You…you talk about me with your sister?” Stiles' cheeks were probably splotchy.

 

Words seemed to fail for Derek as a constipated look took over his features. Biting his lip to hold back his amusement, Stiles pushed the door open a bit wider with his hip. “Wanna come in? You can help me put some of this stuff away?”

 

The look of surprise and admiration that spread across Derek’s face was almost worth the puddle of melted ice on his hardwood floor. 

 

« « « » » »

 

Him an Derek had officially started to date after the whole bearing of gifts stunt Derek pulled. Stiles was sure he had never swooned so hard in his life because of the simple yet sweet gesture. After that day they didn’t immediately get together, but Derek did leave his apartment with a kiss on the cheek and a phone number in his pocket. After he went back to his room, Stiles had promptly freaked out for a good hour and a half before indulging himself on some strawberries to help with his stomach.

 

Which was another thing.

 

His heat hadn’t given its random visits in the past few months, which, in of its own was a good and bad thing. For one, Stiles had panicked at the thought that this could mean pregnancy. Sure, he and Derek had been safe, and only had sex a handful of times, but still! Stiles’ panic, however, lessened after his doctor confirmed that he wasn’t in fact carrying. 

 

The lack of heat was perfect for his working schedule, and he could get a lot more things done when he wasn’t either dying from the high temperatures or horny for days on end. However, it proved to be somewhat —for lack of better words— annoying that he seemingly became sorta regular now that he had someone to spend his heats with.

 

Stiles thought it was complete and utter bullshit.

 

Rolling his shoulders, Stiles huffed as he looked down at the binders and folders in front of him. By some form of miracle, Finstock had granted him the rights to work on an actual story. Stiles had wanted to get all of his intel set, and ready for usage in case of the off chance he’d get some form of writer's block. He planned to review all of the witness reports, details from the families affected, and the reporting on the different steps the law enforcement were doing to resolve the situation. He was going to bury himself in studying the government and politics of it all, then maybe eat before going to bed at around 3 a.m.

 

Stiles had it planned!

 

However, all those plans seemed to escape his mind as big hands smoothed over his waist. “I thought you weren't going to distract me?” 

 

“You’ve been working for hours,” Derek said with his lips brushing against Stiles’ neck. “I think you deserve a little break every now and then. Besides, you’re going to damage your poor MacBook if you continue to attack it,” he says, pulling Stiles back into his arms. “Do you know how many times I’ve considered stealing that from you? I’d be pissed if you ended up breaking it before I could even try.”

 

“Asshole has jokes.”

 

“Oh, did you say something funny?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Stiles sighed as he turned in Derek’s arms to wrap his own around his boyfriend’s neck. They look into one another's eyes for a few sickeningly sweet seconds before Stiles laughed giddily and pressed a warm kiss to Derek’s bright smile. Like always, the kiss started out gentle and then somewhere between the tugging of hair and the scraping of stubble abasing cheeks, it grew increasingly steamy. Forgetting all about the highlighter in his hand, Stiles let his papers slide off the bed as Derek rolled him into his back. Derek dipped his head down to trail kisses along his neck and jaw causing his whole being to tingle.

 

The all at once, it happened.

 

Pulling Derek’s face back up to him, Stiles couldn’t even attempt to hide his excitement. “It’s happening!”

 

It took a few seconds before Derek’s eyes went wide, “really?”

 

“Really, really.”

 

Dumbfounded-shock and anticipation colored Derek’s eyes as he leans forward to inhale the beginning of something so beautiful. Derek’s stomach turns unhelpfully, and he could feel his skin turn clammy. Stiles lights up into a smile and what can Derek do but follow suit?


End file.
